


howling for you

by likeiambreathing



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, because montparnasse is an idiot, oblivious idiots, sometime around there idk, various mentions of blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-15
Updated: 2014-09-15
Packaged: 2018-02-17 12:02:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2309018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likeiambreathing/pseuds/likeiambreathing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“This is such a fucking cliché.”<br/>Eponine was leaning against the doorway to her apartment with a raised brow, wearing pajama shorts and a tank top.<br/>Montparnasse gasped, holding a hand to his chest in fake-shock. “I’m anything <i>but</i> cliché, ‘Ponine. How could you?”<br/>“Says the bleeding idiot standing in my doorway at – what time even is it?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	howling for you

 “This is such a fucking cliché.”

Eponine was leaning against the doorway to her apartment with a raised brow, wearing pajama shorts and a tank top.

Montparnasse gasped, holding a hand to his chest in fake-shock. “I’m anything _but_ cliché, ‘Ponine. How could you?”

“Says the bleeding idiot standing in my doorway at – what time even is it?”

Montparnasse glanced at his watch, frowning at the blood on it because oh, great, now that would smell of blood as well, and cleaned it off.

“Half past three in the morning.”

Eponine sighed but stepped back, gesturing for Montparnasse to enter.

Honestly, he could have easily walked the extra fifteen minutes or so to his flat. His arm wasn’t bleeding that much and he’d had _much_ worse before, and it wasn’t like anyone was going to bother him on the walk back. He was infamous in his neighbourhood.

But Eponine’s flat was cozy, and if she was in a decent mood she would make him coffee usually.

Montparnasse strolled into the familiar flat. The walls were all painted white, though they were almost completely covered in drawings from Grantaire or photographs. Montparnasse saw his face looking back at him in a photo of him, ‘Ponine and R. They were all squished into a photo booth together due to Eponine’s insistence, and Eponine was sprawled on top of the two boys.

Now, Eponine brushed past him in the entryway, absently shutting the door behind her with her foot. Montparnasse followed her lanky frame to the bathroom, where she began to rummage through the cupboard for supplies.

“I’m surprised you used the door,” she said, “Since you usually just climb through the window.”

‘Parnasse enjoyed showing off his talents, one of which was being able to scale buildings and jump through windows – _gracefully_ he might add – so that was naturally his preferred method of enterance.

Montparnasse sat on the counter, checking for any damage to his nails. “Figured you’d be pissed if I startled any possible over-night guests.”

She placed a brown bottle and a few rags on the counter next to him, and snorted in response.

“What?” he smirked, “No one since Monsieur Pontmercy?”

She scowled at him, which shouldn’t have made his heart speed up slightly, fuck. “Don’t be an asshole.”

“’Ponine, you really can’t blame me. He’s an absolute idiot.”

“Marius isn’t that bad.” She shrugged, then gestured for him to take off his jacket.

He did and she pressed a cloth against the cut on his upper-arm. It was still bleeding quite a lot, he realized offhandedly.

“God, seriously ‘Parnasse, this is totally one of those dumb scenes in movies where the girl cleans the hero’s wounds.”

He forced a snort. “I’m hardly a hero, and you’re hardly one that would sit on the sidelines if our lives were shitty action movies.”

Eponine eyed him for a moment, her gaze unreadable, then turned her attention back to Montparnasse’s arm.

“So,” she said, “what the fuck happened to your arm?”

Montparnasse laughed, a rare occurrence for him. “Got in a bit of a fight. Nothing major, just some guy being a dick.”

“And he had a knife on him?”

He shrugged. “He probably wanted to prove he was more badass than me, which is obviously impossible.”

She half-groaned, half-laughed. “Your ego gives me migraines.”

“Something to remember me by when I’m gone,” he retorted with a wink.

With a small smile, Eponine let Montparnasse take over holding the cloth to his arm. They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, Montparnasse vaguely caring about putting pressure on the gash but mostly not-so-subtly observing Eponine. Her dark hair was a mess of tangles, hanging in her face. There was smeared makeup around her eyes, though ‘Parnasse thought it made her look more intimidating if anything.

He knew objectively that she didn’t have the most beautiful face – not quite plain, but nothing special – but there was something about her that Montparnasse found endearing and a little terrifying.

Like her rough edges matched up with Montparnasse’s.

His train of thought was broken by Eponine standing up and announcing that it should, hopefully, have stopped bleeding by now.

Eponine replaced the now stained cloth with a clean, damp one and gently wiped away the blood. It had stopped bleeding finally, so she disinfected the cut and bandaged his arm just as gently.

Stepping back, she studied her work before nodding. Then she punched Montparnasse on his good arm, _hard._ “You almost needed stitches, fucker.”

“ _Almost_ being the important word.”

“You need to be more careful.”

They both knew that order was useless.

“Always,” he said happily, mock-saluting her.

Eponine threw the cloths into the sink with a wrinkled nose, declaring she would clean up in the morning before letting out a loud yawn.

Stretching, she said, “Let’s go to bed?”

Montparnasse wanted a smoke so, so badly – Eponine’s presence made his nerves go haywire, a thought he rather not focus on – but instead of protesting he simply nodded and followed her towards the bedroom.

He tossed off his shirt and pulled off his jeans, crawling under the warm blankets. They’d done this so many times that Montparnasse had his own side of the bed. While Eponine’s bed was smaller than his own, it was ridiculously comfortable.

 And despite many sleepless nights – growing more and more frequent as of late – the second Eponine curled up against his side and rested her head on his chest, Montparnasse fell asleep.

 

-

 

He woke sometime around noon to the sound of sheets rustling. He cracked open an eye to find Eponine shuffling back into bed, a mug of coffee in her hands.

Montparnasse pulled himself up into a sitting position, absently running his fingers through his messy dark hair, and resolutely not cringing at the flare of pain that shot up his arm. He liked to think of himself as extraordinarily hardcore, after all.

The girl next to him looked sleepy and content, holding the mug out for him with a raised brow. He took the coffee happily, gulping against the burn in his throat and feeling more awake every second. A moment later, Montparnasse looked up to find Eponine watching him.

“You’re the absolute best, have I ever told you that?” he said.

Eponine snorted, though he knew she was fighting back a smile. “I’m well aware."

Montparnasse responded with a grin of his own, hid behind the coffee mug.

 

 


End file.
